Coney Killing . . .

There I was, trudging amongst the sage (brush that is) eyes darting all around. The icy wind cut through the many layers i wore. It chilled the soul and froze the very marrow of my bones. Nothing moved, but the occasional fluttering of a bird, or the calm sway of the large bushes. The steam from my breath was dampening the face mask from my coat, making anything I said an unintelligible mumble.
To my left strode Joe, Uncle Joe. To my right, Dave, Dave Jones: my step-dad. we all walked in an eerie silence. The cannons we cradled in our arms were just as cold as the wind, the weight of them bore down on our arms. We walked for what felt like hours, hours of nothing, just uneventful minutes, seconds, and moments of life passing me by.
In my mind a fierce battle was going on, my carnal beast-like state fighting my conscience.
Can i do it? the thought bombarded my skull.
Of course you can, you are a man, be the man!
Really? ok.
It happened all at once, the bushes rattled, a brown streak erupted from the stale green leaves and bolted around a nearby bush. My reflexes were too fast, the gun was up in no time. A crack shot but an accurate one . . . sort of. It wasn't a fatal shot the poor rodent was clambering around like crazy. I got one if its legs. I couldn't finish it, I told Joe to take the shot, he aimed, shot, missed: it was thrashing too much. I had to do it.
I slowly approached it. i couldn't get too close.
"closer" Joe's voice echoed in my brain.
"Closer, the shotgun can't take it from that far away, get closer."
I slowly approaches the pitiful beast. Took a slow aim, my gut was aching with sick. I closed my eyes, opened them just long enough to shoot. My eyes slammed shut again, i looked away and breathed deep. I'd never killed anything before. I felt sick and dizzy. I kept walking, almost pacing, soon the feeling past. I went and looked at the kill. it lay in a surprisingly whole way: only its rear leg I took off with the first shot was missing. IT was done. I'd gotten a Bunny. What a first.